


Shedding Skin

by kronette



Category: Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My explanation of why we see Hillary in full butler uniform in Bryce’s trailer at the beginning, but not at the end, of Lara Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shedding Skin

Hillary scrubbed at the gray cloth in his hands, imaging it were her head. The woman was a menace to propriety, civility, proper breeding and especially clothes. He sighed. Butler Academy had taught him how to remove wine stains, but not surprisingly had nothing to offer on blood. Blood removal would have more practical, serving as he had Lady Croft all these years.

He tossed the ruined midriff shirt into the bin and wiped his hands on an old, stained white towel. The laundry room wasn’t like regular laundry rooms, in that he had a special arsenal of soaps, bleaches and homemade remedies for the odd stains that Lara accumulated in her travels. If it weren’t blood, it was slime, algae, tree sap, and perhaps even prehistoric ooze for all he knew. Not to mention the tears and rips most of her clothing suffered. He’d long ago abandoned any hope of repairing those and chucked them directly into the bin. Tattered as they were and not made of cotton, they made poor dusting cloths.

He spun on his heel and walked up the rounded staircase to the first floor, down the hallway to his left and to the first closed door. He opened it and briskly moved toward the first wardrobe, flinging open the doors and retrieving a folded shirt identical to the one he’d just tossed. He closed the wardrobe, closed the door behind him as he exited the room, and walked the length of the hallway again to the other side of the manor. Lara’s room was in the middle of the hallway, but he barely paused as he twisted the handle and entered, heading directly to her closet. He flicked the folded shirt to smooth it, then placed it on the empty hanger next to the other identical gray midriff shirts. He shifted the hanger slightly until all were evenly spaced apart. He gave a nod of satisfaction, closed her closet doors and retired to Bryce’s trailer, to await word from Lara.

=-=-=-=-=-=

Pandora’s Box. That should have been a warning, right there. Curiosity in it’s purest form, it’s most deadly, and Lara had of course leapt at the chance to find it. Lara’s curiosity was going to get them all killed.

Hillary watched thin-lipped as Bryce fumbled to give Lara a signal that things weren’t right back at Croft Manor. Specifically, in Bryce’s trailer. But sadly, Bryce wasn’t trained in any sort of subtlety, espionage or even manners, and his half-hearted attempt to delay the inevitable revelation was dismissed without notice.

It was two against two, but Hillary had learned long ago that fighting back was foolhardy when one wasn’t trained, and again, Bryce barely lifted his arse off his chair. Hillary couldn’t expect him to help with their escape. No, the risk was too great that one or both of them would simply be shot. Even half-dead, they could still be used as inducement for Lara’s cooperation.

As he was shoved out of Bryce’s trailer into the darkening sky, he saw that his instinct had been right; no less than ten men and three helicopters scattered across the grounds of Croft Manor. If he’d tried anything, it would have been disastrous. He stumbled as he was prodded roughly with the muzzle of a gun and turned to glare at his captor.

“I’m walking as best I can with my arms hampered,” he stated primly. “Shoving me doesn’t help the process.” It was a stupid thing to say. It was stupid to acknowledge them in any way whatsoever. He knew better.

It earned him a cuff with the butt end of the gun across his right temple, sending him down to the evenly-cropped grass. He shook his head to clear the stars. His stomach lurched as he was hauled to his feet by the collar of his jacket and shoved forward again. He stumbled into Bryce, not by accident. The other man sent him a worried look and mouthed, “Don’t,” at him, even as he tried his best to keep Hillary upright.

Despite their circumstances, Hillary felt a bit of admiration for Bryce just then. It wasn’t easy, being the target for Lara’s enemies. It had been awhile for him, nearly four years. It didn’t get any easier with time or experience, he had learned.

He and Bryce were manhandled into one of the copters and strapped in. Hillary bit back a hiss of pain as his arms pinched behind him awkwardly. He hoped this leg of the trip was quick, because he didn’t relish sitting on his hands for however many hours it took to get them to Africa.

When they arrived at the small airport and he saw the cargo plane, Hillary took it back: he’d rather stay in the helicopter. The cargo planes he’d been on had no proper seats in the back, were either too cold or too hot, tossed you around like dice on a board game and generally smelled awful. And those were the ones that Lara chose.

He was sad to note this one was no exception. He struggled into the plane, assisting Bryce when he could and offered the young man a confident smile, despite his own worry. He hated putting Lara in situations like this. He hated to be the cause of indecision on her part, or a decision based on emotions. Either could prove fatal.

He settled back against the curve of the plane, already feeling the heat from the metal bench leech into his bones. It felt good – for about ten seconds. Once they were in the air, it would get hotter and the air thinner. This was going to be an ugly trip.

He idly watched Bryce try to scratch his nose on one of the metal supports, unable to stop a smile as Bryce sighed heartily as though he’d just drunk his first sip of Dom Pérignon.

A punch to the gut caught Hillary off-guard and he doubled over, gasping for breath.

“Oi! Leave him alone,” Bryce called over the sudden roar of the engines.

Hillary tilted his head enough to see Bryce lying sideways on the bench, knees curled up to his chest. Looked like he’d gotten a poke as well. He’d be all right, but still. “Hurting us isn’t going to endear you to Lady Croft,” he shouted over the noise.

His hair was gripped and used to twist him back up to a sitting position. One of the thugs bent down to glare at Hillary, nose to nose. “Maybe not, but hurting you will make this God-forsaken trip worthwhile.” The lack of conscience or reasoning sent Hillary’s stomach plummeting to his toes and fear to rise to his throat.

His eyes widened as he noted for the first time the lack of Reiss. He must be in the cockpit, leaving them with the hired thugs. Oh, this was going to end badly, Hillary thought, as he was hauled upright by his hair and tie.

They were professionals, he would give them that, was Hillary’s later thought as he was slammed back down to the metal flooring. Hardly a punch landed on his face, though his stomach, ribs, back and even thighs were going to be sore. His only protection from the fists was curling up in a ball, but that didn’t stop the thug from landing a few kicks to the areas he could reach.

Bryce would yell occasionally, but a dull ‘whump’ and then a groan would silence him. Hillary tried to keep the attention on him, to spare Bryce what he was going through. The kid was still young and a geek; no place for him in the field. He’d told Lara that time and again.

“Enough!” said a new voice, one that wasn’t derisive and cruel.

Hillary lifted his head, winced at the pain that caused, and breathed a sigh of relief at the visage in the doorway to the cockpit. A criminal he may be, but Reiss was the man in charge.

The thug was hauled away from him and chastised soundly, though that didn’t help Hillary’s predicament of being on the floor with bruises on top of bruises. He rolled over, biting back a scream as he got his knees under him and swayed to an upright position. From there, he stumbled to his feet, but got turned around until he was too dizzy to know which way was up, and collapsed on a bench. He slid sideways, his head landing on something soft and giving.

Thank goodness. His eyes closed to blessed darkness where the pain was nonexistent.

=-=-=-=-=-=

“Hillary. Hillary!”

His name was being hissed rather loudly and he was being rocked. Both were unpleasant and he wanted them to stop. He cracked his eyes open, then slammed them shut again. Panic rose in his chest. He’d seen darkness when he knew he’d opened his eyes. Had the thug done more damage than he’d assessed? Had he cracked his head too many times on the floor? Was he concussed? With a soft groan, he opened his eyes again, this time noting that the darkness – moved. It moved on the breaths of his name, “Hill-a-ry!”

He closed his eyes again as he realized where he was. He recalled landing on something soft; that something must have been Bryce. His head was on Bryce’s lap, no doubt. He sighed and twisted himself gingerly into sitting upright. The room spun for a bit, then righted itself. He turned his head to look at Bryce, who thankfully didn’t seem to have any bruises forming on his face.

But Bryce looked stricken, nonetheless. “Hillary, man, you alright? I tried to get them to stop…”

“I’m fine,” Hillary lied through his teeth, needing Bryce to remain calm. Well, as calm as he could still handcuffed on their way to be used as leverage against Lara. He dared a glance down at his torso, unconsciously groaning his disappointment. “I loved this vest,” he stated morosely, staring at the hopelessly ruined bit of uniform. His shirt was almost in tatters, his tie was nowhere he could see, and his jacket was in at least three pieces across the floor. One of his braces was twisted, digging into his shoulder on top of a painful bruise, adding to the symphony of pain his body was conducting.

“Who cares about the vest, mate?” Bryce cried softly, and Hillary was stunned to see tears in the other man’s eyes. “That tosser was enjoying beating you. He kept laughing…”

Hillary watched in horror as Bryce’s face took on a decidedly greenish hue. “It’s okay, really,” he quickly said, trying to distract Bryce from what would be an unpleasant experience for them both. “They trained us in scenarios just like this in butler academy,” he lied. It was stupid; no way would Bryce believe him, but he had to try.

Bryce swallowed and Hillary held his breath, but then Bryce stuttered out, “You what?”

Hillary nodded despite the twinge in his neck. “You see, when you’re trained to butler to the most wealthy and influential people in the world, not to mention royalty, you’re to expect things like this. Kidnappings, hostage situations and the like. We’re taught how to behave, what to say, when to act and when to bide our time.”

Bryce stared in horror, but he was no longer the dangerous green colour. “You’re joshing me. No way did you learn to take a – a beating in butler school!”

Hillary was really warming up to this. He thought to shrug, but his shoulder hurt too much. He offered a small smile instead. “Why not? As butlers, we’re loyal to those we serve, and most of our employers form attachments to us. We’re thought of as family in some instances.” He could see it was working; Bryce was concentrating on his fabrication and not on their immediate situation. “Family is the target of most kidnappings, so we’re taught what to expect and how to handle it. Now, granted, most of those beatings involved facial pummels, which I’m grateful this overgrown bully had the decency to avoid. Nothing like losing a tooth or two or shattering your jaw to put you off –“

“Come on!” Bryce interrupted, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re telling me that you let other butlers beat up on you for training purposes?”

“Oh, no. That fell to the instructors,” he deadpanned.

Bryce’s jaw fell open and Hillary couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “I’m sorry,” he sniggered. “It’s all a lie. But you see, I really am fine. One lost uniform,” he glanced down at his chest mournfully, “is nothing to cry over.”

“You made all that up keep me mind off of this,” Bryce indicated their situation with a nod of his head. “You’re a daft bugger.” He smiled. “But thanks.”

Hillary inclined his head in a dignified nod. “All in a day’s job well done.”

Their good humour lasted until they drift to sleep, heads almost touching as they stretched out toward opposite ends of the bench. They were awoken when Reiss came back to visit them, the thugs who had used them as punching bags at a safe distance behind. Hillary made himself sit up straight, despite his aches and disheveled appearance. A butler he may be, but he still had pride.

“I hope you’re enjoying the accommodations.” Reiss waved a hand dismissively around the cargo hold.

Hillary was readying his quip when Bryce drolled, “Lovely, it is, but the décor could be improved. Gray on gray is so last year.”

A small smile appeared on Reiss’ lips, one that sent a shiver down Hillary’s spine. “We have an hour until we land in Tanzania, then a short helicopter ride to the base of Kilimanjaro. Plenty of time for a tragic accident to happen to one of you.”

Hillary felt Bryce stiffen beside him. A soft growl came out of his own mouth. “If either of us is dead, or even somewhat not alive, Lara will never agree to anything you propose,” he stated confidently. “I can’t say what she’d do if we didn’t arrive in one piece.” He managed a shrug, though the sharp pain down his right arm didn’t bode well for its future use. He looked to Bryce. “What do you think; full-on bloodbath?”

Bryce stuck out his lower lip, Hillary guessed to look like he was pondering the answer. Instead, he looked like a petulant child who was refused an extra chocolate biscuit with tea. “Definitely shattered kneecaps. Possibly a few broken faces,” Bryce concluded with a small, triumphant grin.

Hillary shook his head ruefully. He’d have to remember to coach Bryce on subtleties if they – when they, when – returned to Croft Manor.

Reiss was impressed with neither of their comebacks. “Tut-tut, gentlemen. Surely using you as collateral, Lara will capitulate to my request?”

“’Capitulate’ and ‘request’ don’t generally go together,” Hillary gently rebuked the man. “And no, Lara will not comply with your requests, bullying, tactics, recommendations or suggestions. She is her own woman, and no one, not even me, can make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Reiss laughed. “You? You’re the butler. What makes you think you can get Lara Croft to do anything?”

Hillary must be concussed, because he blurted out, “I’m not merely her butler. I’m her friend, confidant, parent, advisor, custodian, sparring partner and nursemaid. And speaking as all of those, if you lay a hand on her, I will personally rip out your spine and jump rope with it.”

Reiss laughed again, the sound rattling around inside Hillary until he was shaking with rage. “Big words from a man currently trussed up like Sunday dinner.”

“Uncuff me and I’ll show you why Lara keeps me on,” Hillary threatened quietly.

Reiss was no longer laughing. He motioned for the thug – the one who had been using Hillary as target practice – to come over. Reiss nodded at Hillary. “Teach him his place.”

“No!” Bryce shouted.

Hillary whirled to Bryce and yelled, “Shut up!” stunning all five men. There was a very good chance he was concussed, because he locked gazes with Bryce and continued, “It’s all bullying and threats. That’s all it is. They think by bruising us they’ll be hurting Lara. It will just fuel her anger. They’ve no idea what she’s capable of when truly angry. I’m not sure I do, either. If they,” he jerked his head at Reiss and his henchmen, “think that by hurting us, they’re hurting Lara, they’re dead wrong. They’re giving her the excuse she needs to kill them with no remorse.”

He turned to look Reiss dead in the eye and declared softly, “You’ll present us to Lara after she refuses you. She’ll agree, but only to get you away from us. Then she’ll find a way to kill you. She’ll come back round, kill the rest of your men, rescue us, and we’ll be back in merry old England within a day, letting the earth or local fauna take care of your rotting remains.” He breathed heavily. “Lara will not let you destroy the world.”

Neither he nor Reiss blinked. Hillary would be damned twice over if he let the man have the satisfaction. His eyes were beginning to tear when Reiss turned round and motioned for the thugs to follow him.

Hillary collapsed back against the metal curve of the plane, every part of him shaking.

“Shit, mate,” Bryce muttered next to him, his voice filled with awe.

“Shit, indeed,” he replied weakly.

=-=-=-=-=

His prediction didn’t happen quite the same as reality, but close enough. Reiss had died at Lara’s hand. Sheridan had rescued him and Bryce, which was an odd turn, but not unwelcome. The world was saved.

Trusting Bryce’s two hours of flight time not to crash them into something, however, had taxed Hillary’s nerves until the copter landed safely and he was on solid ground again.

The Wachagga tribe had been pleasant, noticing his bruises and offering him some sort of drink that tasted terrible, but helped with the pain.

The pleasantness had ended when he discovered he was being roped into marriage. He and Bryce had raced to catch up to Lara in the Jeep, though he didn’t think she’d actually have left them.

They’d had to call upon one of Lara’s contacts to get them out of Africa and back into England, as their captors hadn’t bothered with their passports.

Once back at Croft Manor, things did not return to normal. Lara brooded for weeks after their return, but once she’d shared the tale of her final encounter with Sheridan, Hillary had understood. She’d killed a man, in cold blood no less, whom she’d loved at one time. He marveled again at the sacrifices she was willing to make to save the world, and told her so.

“It will be hard for awhile,” he’d admitted, “But you did what you must. Sheridan would have put the world at risk. You wouldn’t allow that.” he reached across the small side table to take her hand between his. “Where the rest of civilization falls, you stand up to protect it. That’s quite noble.”

She made a small humming noise in the back of her throat. Her gaze was still far away, not seeing the coffee table she was staring at. “I’m hardly noble. I peeked in the box.”

That admission rattled him, but he kept his expression neutral. Obviously the world was still there, so she hadn’t triggered whatever it was into being released into the world. “That may well be, but the world is still here. Could you have said the same if Sheridan had opened it?”

She closed her eyes on a wince, but her answer was a firm, “No.” She glanced back at her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You’re far too good to me, Hillary.”

He cleared his throat and released her hand. “Yes, well. Glad you finally realize it,” he muttered, feeling his ears heat up in embarrassment.

She regarded him shrewdly. “I’ve been speaking to Bryce,” she stated airily. “Kidnapping scenarios at butler academy? Classes on beatings?” she smirked as her eyebrow rose. “Using Reiss’ spine to jump rope?”

He would not be made to blush, but he could feel heat on his cheeks. “Yes, well,” he blathered, “I was stretched for metaphors.” He sent her a sheepish grin. “I had to keep Bryce calm and that story was the first thing that popped into my head.” He grimaced as he recalled, “I was afraid he was going to throw up on my shoes.”

She leaned forward and took his hand between hers. “You, Nicholas Hillary, are a dear. Even in crisis situation, you managed to defend my honor and protect those in your charge. Are there no limits to your devotion?”

He narrowed his eyes. She was half-mocking him, but he wasn’t quite sure which parts were mocking and which were sincere. “Your clothes,” he remarked off-hand. “You treat them horribly and I’m left to try to salvage them. No more.”

Her throaty chuckle brought a smile to his lips. That was better; seeing Lara laugh again. She patted his hand, then released it. “I promise to take better care of them,” she stated solemnly as she stood and began walking toward the door.

“See that you do, Lady Croft,” he called after her.

She sent him a smile over her shoulder as she left the study, her walk confident and sure.

Now, things were back to normal at Croft Manor.

The End


End file.
